Leaving the topic of the Council alone, Though Horace regarded August as a close friend, he hesitated to begin telling him the details of his vision for fear of being misunderstood or the images, misconstrued. The damnable button served as a mild distraction as he remembered what had happened to him in India. Finally, he began, "Very well."
A pause, and then, "From an invisible mouth, words were streaming forth, turning into living entities, and winging straight towards me. They twirled and paraded like gaily dressed dancers, only to sink on the floor or evaporate in iridescent mist into the air, each giving place to the one that followed. For an instant, each would pause, hoping to be the object of my choice, before making way for her successor.
"Now they dragged in a woman, stark naked, gigantic as a feminine Colossus. For the space of a second that lasted hours, she stood there, doing me reverence. The lashes of her eyes were the length of my whole body, and with a silent gesture she directed my gaze towards the pulse in her left wrist. It started to throb like an earthquake, and I felt within her the life of the entire world.
"A man and woman were embracing. I saw them come from afar, and nearer and nearer they came. There was the singing of a frenzied troop close to me, and my eyes sought out the embracing couple, only now they turned into a single form, half male, half female - a hermaphrodite, seated on a throne of mother-of-pearl. Its crown terminated in a piece of red wood, on which the Worm of Destruction had gnawed mysterious runic figures.
"I could begin to tell the figures that continued to stream from this invisible mouth had been risen from the dead, their faces swathed in grave clothes. Pausing before me, they would let their wrappings suddenly fall, staring hungrily right into my heart with their predatory eyes, sending a stab of icy horror through my brain and seemed to dam the course of my blood. A woman suddenly swept past - I could not see her face... that was turned from me. She wore a cloak made all of flowing tears.
"There were so many glittering pearls strung on a silken thread, the several notes of a single melody, welling forth from the invisible mouth. It was no longer words or a tune, but a voice. A voice that wanted something from me I could not understand, try as I would. It tormented me with its fevered, incomprehensible questionings."
Unbeknownst to Horace, the more detail he gave of his vision, the paler he became. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his heart raced faster. When he finished speaking, his throat was terribly dry. Suddenly feeling foolish for this involuntary display of weakness, he refused to show any more by doing something by looking away or hanging his head. "In any case...that is all I remember, before fading."